Let's Play Murder
by poetanddidntknowit34
Summary: A series of one-shots about the times Sherlock uses his bullet wound against Mary. **Edit: It started out as the aforementioned description, but has evolved into a study of the relationship between Sherlock and Lily, John and Mary's daughter.
1. Chapter 1

"Uncle Sherlock, Uncle Sherlock!" Lily Anne Watson skid into the living room of 221B and crashed into the couch. "Uncle Sherlock you promised me you'd play with me today!" She tugged on her uncle's dressing gown.

Sherlock sighed heavily and slammed the front doors of the Mind Palace aggressively. "Lily Anne, I'm busy. What's Mrs Hudson doing?"

"But Uncle Sherlock, I've spent all day every day with Mrs Hudson since I've been here! Mum and Dad are coming home tomorrow and you _promised_ that you'd play with me today!"

Sherlock sat up on the couch and frowned at his best friend's daughter. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"Nope." She gave him the same look John always does.

Sherlock sighed again and ruffled his hair before standing up. "Fine. What do you want to play?"

"Let's play princesses!"

"Not happening."

"Tea party!"

"I've never made my own tea a day in my life, I'm not starting now."

"Can I braid your hair?"

"...no."

"Can you teach me to solve crimes?"

"I promised your dad I wouldn't."

"You're no fun."

"So I've been informed." Sherlock sat back down on the couch and pulled his goddaughter up next to him. "How about I tell you a story about an attempted murder instead?"

Lily's eyes lit up. "Yay!"

* * *

Mary and John were all smiles as they returned to their hotel room the last night of their short holiday. "Remind me to listen to Sherlock more when he recommends restaurants," Mary said as she began to take her earrings off. "That was the most excellent steak I've ever had!"

"Speaking of Sherlock, I hope he's doing alright. We've never left him alone with Lily this long." John kicked off his shoes and flopped back on the bed.

"Well, we haven't received a call from Greg that one or both has died, so I'm sure it went just fine. Lily loves her Uncle, and Sherlock isn't as bad with kids as he likes to think he is." Mary's phone began ringing on the nightstand. Checking the caller-ID, she said, "It's Mrs Hudson's landline. Huh."

She picked it up and gave a cheery 'hello'. On the other line, Lily was sobbing hysterically and showing no signs of calming down. "Lily? Honey what's wrong?"

Her daughter sniffled a few times before taking a deep breath and managing to choke out, "Mum, did you- did you _shoot_ Uncle Sherlock?" Lily resumed sobbing.

Mary tossed the phone to her husband, snapping angrily, "Talk to your daughter while I kill your best friend. For real this time."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sherlock, I wish you wouldn't put your shoes on the couch." Mary said as she moved through the living room to the kitchen.

Sherlock, deep in his Mind Palace, didn't respond. His goddaughter, perched on his stomach with her fingers steepled under her chin, cracked one eye open and said, "Shhhh. Uncle Sherlock and I are thinking." She then went back to her silent reverie.

Mary shook her head and sat down next to John. "I can't get her to sit still for one second, not even to brush her hair, and the second her Uncle walks through the door, she's a statue."

"At least she's quiet for once." John took a sip of his tea. "I wonder what they're thinking about."

"Uncle Sherlock is solving a murder and I'm trying to remember where I left Beach House Barbie." Lily fell silent again, earning a small smile from Sherlock.

Outside, the terrible thunderstorm that stranded the detective at his best friend's house raged against the windows. The lights had been knocked out several hours ago, and the candles around the house cast the duo on the couch in a beautiful, but eerie glow. Suddenly, Sherlock sat upright crying, "That's it!" Then scrambled to catch Lily as she tumbled, giggling, in the direction of the floor. He caught her with one arm and hauled her back up into his lap. "My apologies, Ms Watson."

"That's OK. I don't know where I put Barbie anyway." She wrapped her arms around her Uncle's neck in a quick hug. "Can I braid your hair, now?"

"That's never happening."

John piped up now. "Oh c'mon, Sherlock. I think you'd look great with braids."

"When I die, both of you stay away from my casket." Sherlock poked his niece in the forehead and she giggled and rolled backwards down the couch. Sherlock stretched back out and kicked his shoes off, per Mary's earlier request. "Mary, I require tea."

"Then make it yourself. I know you know how to."

Sherlock made a grandiose whimpering sound and whined theatrically, "But Mary, it's raining out. My _bullet wound_ is acting up." He turned his head to look Mary dead in the eyes and raised a cocky eyebrow.

"Sherlock, you can't always use our little spat as an excuse." Mary said, standing anyway and putting the kettle on.

"Spat? You punched a hole in my abdomen."

"But did you die?"

"Actually, yes. I was pronounced dead for a minute and a half."

"But you didn't stay that way." Mary pointed out.

"Ladies, ladies," John said, not looking up from his newspaper. "You're both pretty. Let's just move on."

Mary stuck her tongue out in Sherlock's direction. "You can't use that excuse for another month now."

"Fair enough."

Lily began to bounce on the couch between her Uncle's knees. "Can I see it?! Can I see the scar?! Please?!" She scrambled up to sit on Sherlock's lap as he undid two of shirt buttons to reveal the small starburst of scar tissue just under his ribs. Lily leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on the pale skin. "There. All better." She said matter-of-factly.

"You have your father's healing touch, Lily Anne." Sherlock said as he buttoned his shirt back up. Only he was allowed to use her first and middle name.

Lily beamed before letting out a huge yawn. Mary set the teacup down on the coffee table. "Looks like someone's ready for a nap." She went to pick Lily up, but the 5 year-old buried her face in her Uncle's chest.

"I'm not tired, I want to stay right here."

Sherlock just looked at Mary and shrugged. He continued to carry on a small conversation with John about the case they were on as Lily slowly fell asleep on his chest.

Finally, as the storm was letting up and Sherlock was preparing to leave for the evening, John clapped him on the back and said, "And you told us we wouldn't need you around."

Sherlock just smiled. "I also told you that I would be there for all three of you. And, Mary, I know you've been meaning to mention it to John, but now I guess I should say 'four of you'."

John looked at Mary who just smiled apologetically. "You take the fun out of everything." She said to the detective.

"Hey," Sherlock began to slip out the door, "Don't shoot the messenger."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, I've been receiving several requests to turn this one off story into a series of one-shots. So, Here goes.


	3. Chapter 3

"Lily?" Mary pushed open the door to her daughter's room. "Lily, honey, it's time to wake up." Mary sat on the end of the girl's bed and patted her back. "Time for school."

Lily sat up, her long blond hair tangled and sticking up in all directions. "No thank you, Mummy. I'll pass." She went to lie back down, only for the covers to be stripped from her bed.

"Please don't make this hard, Lily. Mummy doesn't feel well today." Mary put a hand on her stomach, repressing a wave of nausea from her morning sickness.

Lily sat up and let Mary brush the tangles out of her hair. "Uncle Sherlock is picking me up from school, right?"

"Yes. He's going to watch you for the evening because Daddy has to work late and I have a doctor's appointment to make sure your baby brother or sister is doing alright." Mary finished brushing the blond locks and placed a light kiss on her head. Standing to pick out her outfit for school. "Any idea what you two are going to do with yourselves for the afternoon?"

Lily shrugged. "He said he had a surprise for me."

"Remember what I said about presents from your Uncle?"

"If it used to be a part of another person, it stays at his house." Lily recited, pulling her purple jumper over her head.

"Good girl. Now, go downstairs and eat breakfast with your Dad."

* * *

When the school bell rang later that day, a flood of small children broke through the doors and ran towards their parents. Sherlock was standing further back from the other adults, patiently waiting for his goddaughter. When Lily ran out of the building and saw him, she practically plowed him over trying to show him the drawing of a flower she made earlier that day.

With a grand flourish, he swept her up into his arms and turned to hail a cab, almost slamming right into Sally Donovan and her son. "Watch where you're going, Freak." She said, rolling her eyes. In the few months after his return, Sally had been nice and almost sweet in her interactions with the detective. Sherlock, however, hadn't changed a bit towards her and within four months, they were back to their mutual hatred.

"You know," She added, nodding at Lily, "Kidnapping is illegal."

Lily looked delighted at that. "Uncle Sherlock, if you kidnap me, does that mean I get to stay at your house from now on?"

"I'm not kidnapping you. And after story time when you spent the weekend with me last time, your Mum has forbidden that from reoccurring." Sherlock turned to leave again, but was stopped by the annoying police officer.

"Hold on, this is John's daughter, isn't it? He's never brought her around the Yard before."

"Yes, John makes a point not to bring his 5 year-old on grisly murder cases. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have important things to do." He moved past her towards the street.

Lily turned around slightly in his arms and called back, "Yeah! Uncle Sherlock has a surprise for me!" She turned back to look at him. "You didn't forget, did you?"

"Of course not." Sherlock opened the cab door and put her in the backseat. Climbing in next to her, he said, "I've been waiting all day to give it to you."

When the cab pulled up in front of 221B, Lily was positively vibrating with excitement. Sherlock paid the cabbie as his niece rushed up the stairs and into the arms of his landlady. "Oh Lily," Mrs Hudson doted, "It's so good to see you. I made you biscuits!"

The landlady ushered the two into the flat and handed the little girl a chocolate biscuit as they made their way upstairs. Sherlock flung his coat haphazardly onto John's old chair, and Lily copied him to the best of her abilities. "Where is it?" She asked, smiling up at him.

"What?"

"C'mon, Uncle Sherlock, where is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He hid his smile as he flopped down into his chair. Lily gave him what he can only describe as 'John's look', so he only nodded in the direction of the other room. "It's on the table." Then he beamed as she rushed forward to open the black case in the kitchen.

* * *

John still had a key to 221B, just as Sherlock had a key to his house. They told each other it was 'in case of emergencies', but in reality, as far as either were concerned, the other lived at their home as much as they did. As John let him and Mary inside the familiar flat, they heard violin music floating down the stairs. "Sounds like Sherlock's composing. I've never heard this piece before." John mused as they began to move upstairs.

As they got closer, a wrong note screeched out and caused both the Watsons to stop in their tracks. "Sorry." They recognized the apology as their daughter's and continued up the stairs.

John rounded the corner and saw Sherlock kneeling on the floor next to the young girl. Both had violins tucked up under their chins, and Sherlock was helping her correct her fingering. "It's OK, Lily Anne. Just remember, when we get to that part, your finger goes here."

They had their backs to the door, so the Watsons stayed quiet and watched as the musicians picked their instruments back up. The duet began again, Sherlock playing a complicated flourish of notes and rhythms, as Lily played a few complimenting notes to create a background for his melody. They neared the part where Lily messed up the last time, and passed it flawlessly to end in unison. It was beautiful and John smiled as Mary squeezed his hand.

"I did it!" Lily exclaimed, throwing her arms around her Uncle's neck and giggling.

"That was gorgeous, you two." Mary spoke up now.

"Mum, look!" Lily rushed over to show Mary her violin. "Look what Uncle Sherlock gave me. He's going to teach me how to play." She looked at John proudly and said, "I'm going to be just like him when I grow up."

"Not too much like me, I hope." Sherlock laughed, standing up. "Let's try to keep you bullet free, shall we?"

Mary rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Ready to go home?" She helped put the violin away as Sherlock and John spoke briefly about a new case that had recently turned up and may require the assistance of a medical doctor/blogger.

"You know," John said just before they left, "She really loves you. She talks about you all the time. You're such a big part of this family, Sherlock."

"I do know, John. And I'm happy to be."

"Excellent. Then it's settled."

"Beg pardon?"

"You're coming with us in a few weeks on our family holiday to Disney World."

Sherlock just blinked a few times, then murmured, "Shit."

* * *

**Author's Note:** For some reason, this is becoming more of a study in Sherlock and Lily's relationship, rather than Sherlock teasing Mary relentlessly. Sorry not sorry?


	4. Chapter 4

"Daddy, when is Uncle Sherlock going to wake up?" Lily tugged on John's shirt sleeve as he brushed his teeth over the hotel sink. It was their first day at Disney, and the girl was eager to get to the park.

"I told him to set his alarm, but I'm sure he ignored me." John said, wiping the corners of his mouth on the soft white towel. "We can go wake him up right now."

Sherlock was fast asleep in the adjoining hotel room, the jet lag weighing heavily on his body. He didn't frequent the States, and the flight had been long and headache inducing. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with his best friend, Mary, and his niece, but he did not want to spend said time at an amusement park. So, he had planned to sleep as long as physically possible that morning. John and Lily had other plans.

"OK ready?" John whispered, his hand on the door handle between their two hotel rooms. "One, two, three!"

The door flung open with a bang and Lily launched herself onto the duvet. "Wake up, Uncle Sherlock!" She jumped up and down on the large bed, giggling and rousing her Uncle from sleep.

John put his hands on the end of the mattress and bounced it with all his might. "Yeah, wake up, Uncle Sherlock!"

The detective groaned loudly and tried to stay asleep. When John pulled the comforter off of him, he sat up and said, "I will put something awful in your tea."

"Like sugar?" John was in no way intimidated by the threat. "C'mon, Sherlock. It's time to visit the happiest place on Earth!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his best friend, and opened his mouth to make a snarky comment, but was cut off by Lily. "Get up, Uncle Sherlock! I want to meet a princess!"

She began pushing at him, trying to get him out of bed. "OK, OK. I'm up, Lily Anne. And now, you're going to get it for waking me." He snatched her up before she could get out of the way, swinging her around the room and dropping her with a thud and a bounce back onto the bed.

"Lily," Mary stuck her head into the room. "Come brush your teeth, sweetie."

Lily chirped an agreement and practically skipped back into the other room. John grabbed Sherlock's arm to prevent him from flopping back down onto the bed. "Oh no you don't." He pushed the detective in the direction of the bathroom. "Go take a shower and join us downstairs for breakfast. We've got a full day ahead of us." John went to go back into his room. "And don't wear any of your nice dress clothes. Wear the jeans and T-shirt I packed you." Sherlock groaned loudly. "You'll thank me later."

* * *

After breakfast, the small family was loaded into a cab and shuttled to Disney World as fast as the law would allow, which was not fast enough for the soon to be 6 year-old in the backseat. Once inside the actual park, Lily's natural vibrancy proved to be an instant problem. She wanted to run around and explore everything at once.

The young girl practically bolted as soon as they were through the gates, and was stopped by her Uncle's long arms. "If you can't stay right next to us the whole day, we'll go back to London right now." John said sternly. Lily nodded in understanding. "You must have hold of one of our hands at all times, got it?" The Captain Watson voice worked with all ages, and Lily immediately cemented her hand into Sherlock's.

She tugged them around the park, wanting to see every prince, princess, and cartoon character there was, and wanting to experience every ride she was tall enough for. Being tall for her age, that was a lot. Sherlock and Mary sat out of the rides, the loops and swirls made Mary nauseous, and Sherlock was not an amusement ride person.

"I'm still surprised we convinced you to come." Mary said as they sat down on a bench to watch John and Lily enjoy a 'Silly Silo' ride. "I know this isn't really your thing."

"It's not." They waved at the duo as they boarded their ride and the machine started up. "But, Lily would've been upset if I hadn't come." She had called him every day of the last week to make sure he was still coming with them.

"Well, hopefully London's criminal underground will wait patiently for your return." Mary smiled and took another sip of her lemonade.

"Actually, I gave up a double homicide case to be here. Lestrade won't stop calling me." He pulled out his phone, and sure enough, he had three missed calls.

"You gave up a double homicide for us? So sweet." Mary giggled and earned a smile from the detective. The ride slowed to a stop and the two stood to meet the rest of their small party at the exit.

"Where to next?" John asked.

* * *

About midday, they found themselves in an impossible line for lunch. Lily was growing impatient, and her parents were growing tired. "Mum, Dad, can I go see the Little Mermaid while you wait in line?" She pointed to a near by 'marine cave' that supposedly housed a ginger mermaid princess.

"You know you can't go by yourself, Lily." Mary said.

"Uncle Sherlock?" Her puppy dog eyes are the only ones on Planet Earth to work on the world's only consulting detective, so when she used them, of course he said yes.

They gave their food orders to the Watsons and set off in the direction of another princess, Sherlock trying to balance Mary's camera in one arm and his goddaughter in the another. The line to see the little mermaid was short, and before they knew it, Lily was skipping up to sit on the rock next to Ariel.

"You're my favorite, princess!" She exclaimed, giving the actress a big hug.

"Smile." Sherlock held up the camera and snapped a few pictures, even taking one on his phone for 'sentiment'.

"Uncle Sherlock, come take a picture with us. Please!" She begged, taking the camera from him and giving it to the other Disney worker standing nearby.

"Lily, I don't think-" But it was too late, he was already being pulled to sit on one side of the mythical princess, while Lily took a seat on the other side.

"My Uncle is a prince. He has a palace. Right, Uncle Sherlock?"

"Mind Palace, Lily Anne. There's a difference."

The actress, who was about Sherlock's age and had been staring at him since they walked in, fixed her vivid green color contacts on him, and batting her eyelashes a little, said, "Maybe someday I could see your palace."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "No." Turning to the other employee, he said, "Just take the picture." He managed to smile a little as the flash went off, then gathered the Nikon and the girl back up into his arms and went back to find John and Mary.

The rest of the day went just as smoothly, and John even managed to snag a picture of Sherlock helping Lily feed the fish in one of the many ponds, and another one of Lily giving him a big kiss on the cheek after Sherlock won her a stuffed polar bear in one of the carnival games. The adventure ended with the four trudging back out of the park well after 9 o'clock. They were all tired, but happy, and Lily was fast asleep in Sherlock's arms. "I'll be able to lift anything after this." He remarked as they slid into a cab to go back to the hotel.

Halfway through the ride back to the hotel, Lily stirred a bit. "Tired?" Mary asked, pushing the hair out of her face.

She nodded sleepily and said, "I had lots of fun today. Thanks, Mum. Thanks Dad and Uncle Sherlock."

"You're welcome sweetie." John said, patting her back.

"And I can't wait to spend the day with you tomorrow, Uncle Sherlock." John and Mary were going to visit the spa and relax a bit while Sherlock entertained the little one. "I can't wait to see the crime scene museum."

She yawned largely and buried her face back into Sherlock's shoulder, falling asleep again. "Crime scene museum?" John asked.

"They have an exhibit not too far from the hotel called 'CSI: The Experience'. I figured it'd be enjoyable for both of us. Don't look at me like that, John. It'll be educational."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

**Author's Note: **This fic was just supposed to be a one-shot, but due to sheer demand, it's been made longer. But, it's also way more famous than I'd ever dreamed. Thank you all for your support, your time, and your love. You keep it up, and I will, too!

Follow me on Tumblr! The url is the same as my pen name!


	5. Chapter 5

"Happy birthday to you!" Greg started the song, and the rest of the party joined in quickly. "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Lily! Happy birthday to you!"

The 6 year-old blew the candles out on her cake as the others clapped and cheered, and Mary snapped several pictures. "What'd you wish for, Lily?" Mrs Hudson asked.

"I can't tell you! It won't come true!" She giggled a little and started pulling the candles out of the icing. "But, I do wish Uncle Sherlock was here."

"He does, too, Lily Pad." John said, picking up a knife to cut the cake. "But he and Mycroft have some business to clear up in Moscow for the Queen. He sends his love, though."

"Not just his love," Mary said as she tried to maneuver through the small kitchen with her severely pregnant stomach and a manilla folder in her hands. "Uncle Sherlock dropped this off for you just before he left."

On the front of the folder, the words 'Happy Birthday, Lily Anne' were scrawled in Sherlock's elegant script, and Lily beamed as she opened the gift up. "Sheet music!" Lily said, delighted. She pulled the small post-it note off the front page of music. She read aloud, "I composed this song specially for you, Lily Anne. It's much more difficult than anything I've given you to play so far, so you'd better get practicing." She leafed through the four page song, looking at the complicated rhythms and time changes, before smiling and saying, "I can't wait to hear what it sounds like. It's called 'Lily's Song'."

"Sherlock's compositions are always so beautiful." Mrs Hudson remarked. "I especially liked the waltz he did for your wedding, John."

"It was rather lovely." Mary agreed, taking her piece of cake from John and sitting down at the table finally. "But my favorite was always the lullaby he made when Lily got whooping cough when she was only a year old."

"He composed a lullaby?" Molly asked, taking another bite of cake.

"I want to hear the story. I've never heard it before." Lily carefully put the music away and picked up her fork for her cake.

"Lily was almost one when she contracted whooping cough." John began. "Mary and I were going out of our minds with worry and lack of silence and sleep, and I felt so helpless. We were giving her the proper medical attention, obviously, but until she healed, there was only so much we could do for her. And she wasn't sleeping hardly at all, so we neither were we. I went to see Sherlock one morning after she'd been sick for four days, because he had a case and I needed to do something distracting for a bit. He took one look at me, and refused to take me out on a case in my state.

"He hadn't been over very much since Lily was born, because Mary and I were so busy being new parents, he was just kind of giving us our space. He'd seen Lily maybe six times in that year. When I came over that day, I was an absolute wreck, and I explained everything to him, from all the sleepless nights, to the miserably sick little girl I was trying to heal as fast as possible. Sherlock didn't say anything except that I was banned form crime scenes until I'd slept, then he pushed me in the direction of his bedroom and shoved me down onto the duvet. I slept for six hours.

"When I woke up, Sherlock was in the living room, working on something on his violin. We chatted for a bit, and then I went home. Around 9 that night, the doorbell rang. It was a miracle I heard it over Lily's screaming, crying, and coughing. Sherlock was standing there with his violin case in hand. He asked to come in, and to be allowed into Lily's room. He said he had an idea to make her sleep. So we of course let him in and let him go upstairs. A few minutes later, we heard her lullaby floating through the baby monitor in the living room. The reaction was instant. The crying stopped and Lily was fast asleep.

"Mary passed out almost instantly on the couch, too, and despite my six hour nap earlier, I was asleep soon, too. For the next five days, Sherlock came over every night at nine and played Lily's lullaby for a few hours to put her to sleep and keep her asleep, and the rest actually helped to accelerate her healing. The fifth night he came over, she was much healthier, and had been pretty quiet the whole day. Mary and I took the opportunity to grab a quick bite to eat at the diner across the street, knowing that Sherlock would play her to sleep, and continue to play until well after we had come back and gone to bed.

"However, when we got home twenty minutes later, we didn't hear the violin. In fact, I didn't hear anything at all. A little concerned, I went upstairs into the nursery, and found Sherlock fast asleep in the rocking chair with my baby girl in his arms sleeping just as soundly. It was so cute it was almost laughable. I'd never seen Sherlock so... _soft_ in the whole time I'd known him. I went over and touched his arm, shaking him slightly to rouse him.

"When he woke up, he said, 'I'm sorry, John. When I walked in here, she kept reaching for me wanting to picked up. So I hummed to her instead of playing. I hope that's OK.' And I was still smiling like an idiot as I said, 'Of course it's OK. You're my best friend and I want you to be a part of my life, and the lives of my wife and child. In fact, I want to ask you a question. Would you like to be Lily's godfather?' And ever since then, he's been an ever-present entity in her life."

"That's my favorite story we have to tell." Mary said, smiling as she took the last bite of her cake.

"That's _my _new favorite story." Lily said.

"I never knew Sherlock had such a soft spot." Greg teased.

"Yeah, and if you ever tell Anderson or Donovan, you won't see it as he smothers you in your sleep." John pointed out.

"I wish he would show a soft spot for the wallpaper at Baker Street. I'm still not sure what exactly it's done to him." Mrs Hudson grumbled, causing the group to laugh outright.

As John gathered up the cake dishes and moved them to the sink, he asked, "Shall we open the rest of the presents?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, not much happens in this one, but it's necessary for the plot I came up with yesterday while at the gym (I get my best ideas while pumping iron. haha). That's right, this is no longer a series of one-shots, but an actual story with an actual plot line. We won't actually get into the real plot until about chapter 7, though.


	6. Chapter 6

The doorbell rang and caused two children to squeal in delight. "Uncle Sherlock!" They cried, rushing down the hallway and almost slamming into the door. Lily moved her 7 year-old brother out of the way to unlock and open the door.

"Merry Chriffmasss, Uncle Sherlock." William Scott Watson whistled around his missing front teeth.

Sherlock laughed. "Merry Christmas, Scotty. And Merry Christmas to you, too, Lily Anne."

"I've been practicing my Christmas carols, just like you taught me." The 13 year-old beamed, pointing at her violin in the living room.

"Good. I expect a concert after we open presents, then." He moved past them into the living room juggling the wrapped packages in his arms and setting them under the tree. "Happy Christmas, Mary." He kissed his 'little sister' on the cheek before accepting a glass of wine from John and wishing him the same greeting.

Scotty tugged on Sherlock's coat sleeve relentlessly. "Uncle Sherlock, Santa came last night! Look at all the presents!" Though it came out more like 'prethenths'.

"William, let your Uncle sit down for a bit before you start harassing him." John swung his son up into his arms and took him into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Lily sat on the floor at Sherlock's feet, using his knees as a backrest as she nibbled on her appetizers, listening contently to Sherlock's recounting of the recent 'Red Nose Rudolph Murders', as John had named them on the blog. He'd caught the killer just the day before and was excited to tell his tale of a car chase through central London on Christmas Eve. When he'd finished, John changed the subject by asking, "How's the new tenants at Baker Street?" Mrs Hudson had passed away a year before and left the property to Sherlock to lease as he saw fit. He'd recently let 221A out to a couple from France.

"They pay the rent, that's all I care about. I never see them anyway, so I only know the bare minimum about them. However, I do know that they are not fans of guns at 3AM."

"No one is a fan of gunshots at 3AM, Sherlock." John pointed out, taking a sip of his tea.

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand in his direction, but smiled nonetheless. Scotty crawled up onto the couch and into his Mum's lap. Putting his hands on either side of her face, he looked her in the eye and asked, "Is it time to open presents yet?"

Mary thought the whistling and mispronunciations were absolutely hilarious, but said yes anyway. The two children scrambled over to the tree and began separating all the presents out and giving them to their rightful owners. When everyone had their own little piles around them, the young ones tore into the wrapping paper immediately. Scotty received a remote control car, a box of Legos, and a blue jumper from his parents and Santa, and a beginners Perplexus puzzle maze from Sherlock. Lily opened up a red jumper, a copy of the seventh Harry Potter book, and an iPad from her parents/Santa, but she screamed a little when she opened Sherlock's gift. Inside the titanium case was a brand new microscope set, complete with supplies for slide making.

"You would get them educational gifts." John remarked with a laugh.

Before Sherlock could respond, his godchildren were crawling all over him, hugging him tight and thanking him for their gifts, before moving to each of their parents to do the same.

The adults opened mostly gift cards, and all 5 stockings had nothing but candy inside, except Sherlock's, in which he also had a package of Nicotine patches because Santa is good at his job. After Sherlock and Lily performed a duet of 'Away in a Manger' for the small family, the kids wanted to open and play with their presents.

"Come into the kitchen, Lily Anne, and I'll teach you to make a wet mount slide of your cheek cells." Sherlock said as he picked up the case with the microscope in it and moved towards the kitchen. Meanwhile, Mary stole the Harry Potter book and began to read on the couch, and John was asked by Scotty to help him get through the Perplexus maze.

About ten minutes later, as Sherlock was teaching Lily how to fine focus the scope and what tissue type she was looking at, John was becoming increasingly frustrated with the puzzle maze. Finally, he shook the sphere violently, causing the metal ball inside to bounce around against the plastic. "THIS IS A STUPID TOY, SHERLOCK!" He yelled. "I hate this!"

He gave the maze back to Scotty and pouted in his chair. "It's not supposed to be easy, John. It's supposed to be nearly impossible."

"So you gave it to a 7 year-old?" Mary said, looking up from her book.

"It'll keep him busy for hours. Promise." Sherlock smiled over his tea as John continued to glare at him from the living room.

After a little bit, the scientists were asked to clear out of the kitchen so that Mary could get dinner going, so Sherlock took over the couch as Lily played with Scotty on the living room rug, trying to help him build the airplane on the box of Legos. John, suddenly determined again, picked the Perplexus back up. After losing three more times and becoming throughly flustered again, he tossed the maze to Sherlock, daring him to do any better.

"You are never allowed in this house again." John grumbled after Sherlock solved the puzzle 7 times in a row.

Sherlock dissolved into laughter at John's misfortune, before calling into the kitchen, "Mary, you should bring me my cell phone. I left it on the table."

"You are the laziest thing I've ever met." Mary said, tossing the phone carelessly across the living room and into Sherlock's awaiting hands.

"Mum, I think he's allowed to be lazy around you." Lily pointed out. "You did put a bullet in him."

This new piece of information made Scotty stop in his tracks. "What?" He whimpered, before bursting into tears and collapsing on the rug where he stood, wailing into the carpet.

Sherlock looked over at Mary, shocked and incredulous in the kitchen. "Ha! It wasn't me this time!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Do NOT but a Perplexus puzzle maze. They're annoying as fuck. Also, last chapter of silly nonsense, because we've got a plot to get into! Huzzah!


	7. Chapter 7

"Sherlock, we've got a lead on the serial killers in last weeks homicides." Greg Lestrade said, practically bursting through the living room door of 221B. "You may want to come with me."

"That's enough for this week, Lily Anne." Sherlock said, helping her to pack up her things from her weekly violin lesson as Lestrade went back downstairs to the awaiting police car.

"Can I come with you?" The 14 year-old asked, wanting to be helpful.

"That's not happening." Sherlock pulled his coat on and tied up his scarf before grabbing his gun from a shelf on the bookcase. "C'mon, let's go downstairs." Sherlock hailed a cab quickly, putting Lily in the backseat with a handful of cash to get her home. "I'll talk to you later and tell you all about it. Promise." He said in response to Lily's grand sulk in the back of the cab.

The cabbie pulled the car away from the curb in the direction of John's place, and Sherlock climbed in the back of Lestrade's. "We received an anonymous tip that one of our guys was seen breaking into the Bloomsbury Theater. He could be hiding out there, planning to steal something, or preparing for another murder."

"Was his partner with him?"

"No, he's still in hiding."

"Then murder isn't the motive for the break in. These two kill together, or not at all. But, if we take one down, the other won't be far behind."

* * *

Lily was very unhappy being sent away like that. She was 14 after all! And she could easily help her Uncle Sherlock out in catching these criminals. "Turn the car around!" She suddenly yelled out to the cabbie. "Follow that police car."

"Miss, I'm just supposed to take you home." The cabbie said.

"There's a very large tip in it for you." She waved the extra cash in the cabbie's rear-view mirror, then smiled to herself as the car swung around and sped off in the opposite direction to catch up with the sleek, black police car.

* * *

Lestrade and the policemen of Scotland Yard were stationed at all exits, guns trained on the doors and ready to catch a criminal if he tried to escape. Sherlock went in alone, creeping as quietly as possible through the darkened theater. The only lights that were on were the emergency ones, and the shop lights through a large door at the back wall of the main stage. There was no noise, and the silence made Sherlock's hair stand on end.

The consulting detective moved slowly through the aisles of seats, gun trained forward and all senses focused on the air around him. A small noise backstage changed Sherlock's course and he stole quickly and quietly towards the stairs to the stage. He crept up them slowly and peeked around the edge of the grand curtain into the left wing. From the soft glow of an emergency light, he couldn't see a single person back there. The killer must be in one of the many production shops.

He turned to make sure the other wing was empty as well, backing up to hide himself further in the shadows. "We should check the set building shop first." A whisper came from the black behind him, and made Sherlock jump and swing his gun around.

Lily had been hiding behind a large piece of scenery, and had stepped out when she saw him come backstage. Sherlock pocket the gun, furious. "How the hell did you even get in here?" He hissed.

"Fire escape led to a trap door to the cat walk, then down this ladder." She pointed to a rickety metal ladder behind her. "I just want to help."

Sherlock was so angry, he was almost shaking. He roughly grabbed her arm and began to drag her down the stairs and up one of the aisles and toward the main doors. "Are you an idiot?" He whispered. "I told you to go home."

"I can help, Uncle Sherlock, really." She tried twisting her arm a bit to loosen his iron grip. "I just want to be like-"

Her sentence was cut off by a gunshot and the felt back of a seat next to them exploded in a flurry of cotton and red backing. Sherlock reacted quickly, shoving her down between a row of seats. "Don't move!" He yelled. Dodging another shot and rolling down the aisle to a hide in a row closer to the stage. The killer had taken cover behind a thick wooden prop door, popping out occasionally to take a shot at the detective. Sherlock couldn't get a good shot at him, and Lily was still in danger.

Sherlock whipped out his phone and dialed Lestrade. "I need back up. Main stage. Lily's here."

"What?! How?"

"Later. She's in the 3rd row from the back. Killer's firing his gun out into the chairs. Get some guys in here and get her out."

"On it."

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and gripped the gun tight again, popping back up between two chairs to fire another shot at the criminal, barely missing him. Within a matter of minutes, the back doors to the theater exploded open and several officers fired at the wooden door on the stage, keeping the killer in hiding while two others grabbed the 14 year-old Watson and got her out of danger. As soon as Lily was through the back doors and safe again, Sherlock was up on his feet and rushing the stage. The officers held their fire and as soon as the gunshots stopped, the man was up and running for the right wing.

"Stop!" Sherlock cried out, jumping up onto the main stage in one fluid motion. He immediately hit the floor as the killer turned and fired. Sherlock scrambled up again and chased the criminal through the wing, hurdling prop tables and dodging chunks of scenery.

The man burst through a door and jumped down a small flight of stairs, ducking into the costume shop to his right. Sherlock followed suit, almost stumbling over a large bin of fabric on the floor. He ducked behind a felt mannequin and narrowly avoided another shot from the killer. Before he could fire a second shot, though, Sherlock sent a round right through his chest. And it was all over.

* * *

Mary jumped out of her skin when the front door of her home banged open with enough force, she was sure there was going to be a dent in the wallpaper. She heard someone sobbing, and rushed out into the front entryway to see her daughter's arm caught in Sherlock's death grip. "I'm sorry!" Lily cried out through her tears. "I just wanted to-"

"Shut up!" Sherlock roared, beside himself. "I don't want to hear it, Watson!" He'd never called her that before and it only made her cry harder. He gave her a small push in the direction of her mother. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"What happened?" Mary asked, pulling Lily close to her chest and trying to console her.

"Your daughter followed me to the capture of a serial killer, putting several lives in danger, _including_ her own. After I explicitly told her to go home."

"I'm sorry, Uncle-"

"I don't want to hear you speak right now." Sherlock's gaze was steely and angry. "You could've been killed!"

"Sherlock, please calm down." Mary tried. "She's safe now."

"And if you ever do that again," He hissed, "I swear to god, I will never speak to you again." Sherlock slammed the door behind him and nicked the cigarette Lestrade had just lit outside the house.

"You want a ride back to Baker Street?" Lestrade asked, but was ignored as Sherlock took a long, angry drag of the smoke and continued down the sidewalk in the direction of home.

* * *

It was seven in the morning when Sherlock's phone rang. He hadn't slept that night; only worked his way through a package of cigarettes and started a new experiment with the ears in the freezer. When the ringtone pulled him from his reverie on the couch, he grumbled a bit as he sat up to find the phone. The caller ID told him that John was calling, probably to chew him out for screaming at his daughter the night before.

"Look, John, I know what you're going to say, and trust me, I feel just as bad about it as Lily does. Maybe worse. But she scared me to death last night. I'm sorry I yelled, I just-"

"Sherlock, shut the hell up." John snapped, a nervous edge to his tone that Sherlock wasn't used to hearing. "Lily's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone?"

"I mean she's not here, Sherlock." Sherlock could hear Mary crying in the background. "Her screen was slashed and she was taken in the night. She's gone."

* * *

**A/N: **And the plot begins!


	8. Chapter 8

**Attention: All chapters from here on out are rated T for triggers, language, and some violence.**

* * *

Sherlock had gotten a free cab ride by flashing Lestrade's badge in the cabbie's face and saying 'step on it' after giving the address to John's house, and the old man didn't question anything when he saw the street full of flashing lights outside their destination. He had arrived just in time for John to give his statement, again, to Scotland Yard.

"I know you don't like having to repeat yourself, John, but we need your story multiple times. So, please start again from the beginning." Lestrade said as Anderson put pen to paper.

"I was scheduled to work overnight at the surgery last night, and right before my shift at 9, I got a call from Mary. She said that Lily was upstairs crying herself to sleep because her uncle had screamed at her." He gave Sherlock, who had come to stand next to him, a look. "She told me that Lily had snuck away and followed Sherlock on a case and she was upset because Sherlock was angry and disappointed in her. I promised her that I would talk to Lily and Sherlock when I got home this morning from work. So, around seven, I arrived home and went upstairs to speak with her. That's when I noticed she was gone, and her window screen had been slashed. I called Sherlock first, then the police."

"Are we sure it was a kidnapping?" Anderson put in. "If she was upset, she could've run away."

"Why would she slash her own screen and climb down the fire escape with no personal possessions or money?" John pointed out. "If you don't have anything intelligent to say, please don't speak." He turned on his heel sharply and stalked off into the living room to find his upset wife.

"Mary didn't hear anything at all?" Sherlock asked.

"She was asleep when it happened. By the sight of the room, the kidnapper was in and out quickly and quietly. The only signs of struggle were the bedsheets. He must've drugged her, silencing her struggle until she passed out." Lestrade looked pale and Sherlock's stomach was in knots.

"What's the time frame?"

"Looks like she was taken between midnight and 4AM."

"That means-" Sherlock was interrupted by a young agent, flying down the stairs with a strip of paper in his gloved hand.

"We found this on the vanity." He handed the paper to the consulting detective.

Sherlock took the slip of paper and read aloud. "'Mr Holmes, let's play a game, shall we? Too late to refuse, the show's already begun.'" He whirled around in a flash of black coat and strode into the living room.

"I know who took her." He handed the paper to John who read it with a scowl.

"The case Lily snuck out on last night was the capture, and eventual killing, of one of two murderers. The homicide duo has been wreaking havoc around town, and we caught the older one last night. His partner must have been hidden somewhere in the theater and saw Lily. There's no other explanation."

"Well, then where is she?" Mary stood up, reading the message for herself now.

"These killers prided themselves on their cleverness. They avoided us for a long time, leaving clues to their identity, but in the form of riddles. 'The show's already begun'." He pointed to the last line of the message. "They've taken her back to the theater."

* * *

When Lily woke up, she was lying on a hard floor, her head pounding as if her brain were trying to escape through the front of her skull. When she got her wits about her, she was able to tell that her hands and feet were bound, and she was blindfolded and gagged. She had been lying on her side, and so when she strained her neck back, she could see a silver of her surroundings from under the bottom of the blindfold. Black floor ending in the tops of red felt chairs. She was back at Bloomsbury Theater.

"Well, finally woken up, have we?" Lily heard a man say, as a large hand rolled her onto her back. She shifted a bit, trying not to lay all of her weight on her tied wrists. She felt the man run his fingers down her face softly. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?"

She jerked away from his touch, trying to roll back over and inch to safety. But strong hands held her hips to the floor. She felt a weight settling on her thighs, and she tried to scream. The gag absorbed her efforts. "Relax." There were fingers in the waistband of her pajama bottoms now, and she tried to fight her tears and her attacker.

Suddenly, the weight was gone and there was a thud next to her on the stage. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Another man's voice reprimanded the first.

"C'mon, Lester." The first man said, getting to his feet. "You didn't tell me our target was such a beautiful woman."

The one called Lester spoke again. "She's not a woman, she's a _child_, Jimmy. And she's not our target. We're after the detective, remember? You know, the one that killed Henry. Our brother. Any of this ringing a bell?"

"But we went to all this trouble to kidnap the girl, we may as well enjoy ourselves."

There was the harsh sound of skin connecting with skin, and someone hit the floor. "You broke my nose!" Jimmy exclaimed.

"We may be criminals, Jim, but we're not monsters. If you touch that girl again, I will break something else, then restrain you as well."

"You've gone soft."

"No, I just remember who I was before Henry got inside our heads. We've made a right mess of our lives, all semblance of honesty and innocence flushed down the toilet because we let Henry guilt us into his lifestyle. And I'll be damned if you take those same values from this girl." There was silence for a moment, and the sound of Jimmy getting back to his feet. "We kill the detective to avenge Henry, we release the girl unharmed, and we disappear forever. Nothing more, nothing less. Got it?"

"Fine." Jim mumbled.

Lily felt herself being lifted into someone's arms. "The detective's run out of time in this location." Lester said. "Leave the note, and we'll be waiting in the car."

Lily whimpered a bit behind her mouth gag as she was carried out into the cold.

* * *

**Author's note: **Thanks so much for your patience for this update! I'm at Uni right now studying to be a doctor, and they've really piled the homework on lately. That, plus writing my own Sherlock Holmes novel series, has kept me extremely busy over the last week. I haven't forgotten about this fic, and I promise to finish it out, but it will just take a bit between updates now until I get all the way through my midterms. Love you all!


	9. Chapter 9

"Why would he take her back to Bloosmbury?" Lestrade asked, taking the note from Sherlock again.

"I killed his friend there. It's probably to instill some dramatic flair or poetic justice into the situation." Sherlock waved the question off. "But that doesn't matter. Grab your coat, John. We've got to get there soon."

"I'm coming, too." Mary said, a stubborn set to her jaw.

"No, Mary. Scotty needs you to stay here." Sherlock nodded at the small child cowering in the shadows beyond the doorway to the living room, then went to cup her face in his slender fingers. "We'll find her, I promise." He kissed her forehead lightly and followed Lestrade out of the house and down to the street.

"Be good." John pointed a finger at his son. "And stay safe, love." He gave Mrs Watson a goodbye kiss, and ran down to the awaiting police car outside the house.

"I placed a call to Mycroft on the way over." Sherlock said as Lestrade pulled the car away from the curb and in the direction of the theater. "He's placing your house under top priority surveillance as we speak. Mary and Scotty will be under the top protection of the British Government while we're gone. Though, I doubt he will return for either of them."

"Why did this criminal want Lily, not me? Normally criminals want me, which is confusing, because I'd think they'd want you." John said.

"He does want me. Normally, when the criminal underground wants me, they go for my sidekick." John frowned at the endearment. "You know what I mean. Like I said earlier, the killer we're after must've seen Lily in the theater with me before I killed his partner. He wants me, but saw how I protected her, so chose her as bait."

"I see." John said, a bit frustrated with the whole situation.

They pulled up outside Bloosmbury theater soon after. "Let's go." Lestrade said, punching the car in park and pulling his gun as he ran towards the building.

Several other officers were already there, waiting for the OK to rush the theater from all entrances. When the detective inspector gave the signal, doors splintered opened and police men and women swarmed through the seats and backstage rooms.

Sherlock headed the charge, his long legs carrying him to the stage in a rush of black wool and trigger-happy fingers. They searched the premises, leaving no stone unturned. The costume shops, the props rooms, the construction shops, the warm up rooms, the black box, everywhere.

Finally, Sherlock flung open the door to the last place to look, only to reveal an empty make-up room, and his own angry face staring back at him from inside the mirrors. "Dammit!" He yelled, John finally catching up in time to watch Sherlock violently kick over a chair and tip a rolling cart of hair dryers over. "Where the hell is she?!"

"Sherlock, calm down!" Lestrade said, materializing in the doorway. "They have to be around here somewhere."

"No, don't you get it? We're too late. They've moved locations, and now we're looking for another riddle. They're sending us on twisted scavenger hunt for a live prize At least we hope she's still alive."

John clenched his fists and yelled, "Shut up, Sherlock!"

"We can't sit around and yell about it all day." Lestrade pulled his radio out. "We're looking for a note, similar to the one at Baker Street. Most likely addressed to Sherlock Holmes."

They left the make-up room and began to scour the various shops once again for a small scrap of paper. Sherlock eventually found it in the costume shop, pinned to the exact felt mannequin he'd taken cover behind before killing half of the homicide duo.

"'Well, Mr Holmes. I had really hoped you were a cut above the others. But, don't beat yourself up about it. You may just win the medal yet.'" Sherlock read it aloud to Lestrade and John. "There's supposed to be a clue here as to where they've taken her next."

Minds raced, trying to work the puzzle out as quickly as possible, before John suddenly grabbed the paper and read it again. "Yes! That's it! Sherlock, do you remember two weeks ago when I said I was thinking of enrolling Scotty in karate?"

"And I told you Scotty is too scrawny for hand-to-hand combat, yes." John ignored the comment about his son's stature. "What about it?"

"I wanted to take him to this cross-training facility downtown, that taught kick-boxing and tai kwon do. But when I went there to inquire about prices, they said their funding was CUT and they're shutting down."

"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Of course! 'Beat yourself up', 'win the medal', 'cut above the rest'. John, you're brilliant!"

"We'd better hurry." Lestrade said. "We don't have much time."

* * *

Lily was sitting cross-legged on a soft mat, frowning and trying to scoot backwards every time Lester tried to feed her a bite of food. "Please just eat the damn sandwich, miss." He sighed again. "We really aren't trying to kill you."

"You're trying to kill my uncle." She huffed out, then fell silent again, turning away when Lester put the ham and cheese sandwich to her mouth again. She was still blindfolded and couldn't see where she was, but they had took out her gag a few minutes ago to try to feed her. "Go to hell." She said cooly.

Someone grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her head back to face the ceiling. "I really wouldn't talk like that to those who could snap your neck at any moment." It was Jim. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself."

"Fuck off." Lily suffered the consequences of her choice in words. A hard smack came down across her face, and as she fell back on the mat, her gag was being stuffed back into her mouth.

"Was that necessary?" Lester asked.

"Bitch had it coming. For that, we move her to the next location early."

"But-"

"Lester, I'm in charge of this operation now." It sounded as if Jim had pushed his brother to the ground, too. "You're not man enough to handle what needs to be done. If we have to kill the girl, too, then I'll be more than happy to do it myself." He grabbed another fistful of Lily's hair and drug her to her feet before picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder. "Now leave the damn note and let's go."

* * *

**Author's note: **Thanks again for hanging in there with me! I decided to take a break after doing homework for 4 hours to write another chapter. And now, to another 4 hours of homework…


	10. Chapter 10

The search party poured out of the theater and in the direction of the cars, their focus primarily on the cross-training facility on the other side of town. Red and blue lights flared up in the mid-day sun, and sirens broke the peace of lunchtime London as the police teams rushed into their vehicles and made a beeline for their destination.

Sherlock and John had grabbed another ride from Lestrade, and John sat clenching and unclenching his fists in the seat next to his friend. Sherlock watched for a few moments before opening his mouth to reassure John that they would find his daughter alive and well, but he was cut off by John's barely audible "I knew something like this would happen eventually."

Sherlock's forehead creased in momentary confusion, then smoothed out as he prepared to ask John to elaborate on his statement. "What do-" The sharp ringing of Lestrade's cell phone interrupted the detective once more.

"Hello?" Lestrade answered quickly. "Not now, Anderson, I'm busy." He listened for a second before slamming on the brakes and whipping the car into a U-Turn and snapping the phone shut. "Sherlock, do you still have your brother's government ID code?"

"Of course, but what does that have to do with anything?"

His question went unanswered as Lestrade called out over the police radio, "All units report back to Scotland Yard ASAP."

"What's going on, Greg!?" John asked, finally resettling in his seat from the momentary reckless driving.

"Anderson reminded me about the CCTV cameras. We should be able to track the kidnapper's movements. They're most likely not at the cross-training facility, because we're several hours behind them. This way, we can cut out the middle man and go straight to where they're currently at."

* * *

When they reached Scotland Yard, anxiety and hopeful excitement buzzed like electricity around the police officers. "You guys go upstairs and look at the CCTV tapes, I'll be down here regrouping the search party." Lestrade said as he herded the detective and the doctor into a lift.

"What did you mean by 'I knew something like this would happen eventually'?" Sherlock asked as the lift doors closed and the compartment began to ascend.

"Exactly what it sounds like, Sherlock." John didn't look at Sherlock, but his tightened posture and clenched fists were not lost on the genius. "You know everything, you should be able to understand a simple, straightforward sentence."

"You think this is my fault?" Sherlock stepped to stand in front of John, towering over him.

"Who else's would it be, Sherlock?!" John held his ground.

"YOU were the one who asked me to be a part of your family's lives, knowing full well of the danger that BOTH of us get into on a daily basis!" Sherlock made the mistake of pushing John slightly, and when the elevator doors opened, John tackled him right through.

The ex-military man was stronger, but the detective was more agile, and the two rolled across the hallway until John finally pinned Sherlock like a butterfly under glass. "Don't try to make me feel guilty for letting you into our lives! You're supposed to be my best friend!"

"I am your best friend!" Sherlock tried to slid out of John's grasp, but his grip was iron. "This isn't MY doing!"

"Yes it is! She likes YOU better! She always has. In a choice between me or you, it's always been you, Sherlock."

Sherlock pushed his hips up and used the new center of balance to roll John onto his back. "It's not MY fault that she's just like YOU."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"She's exactly like you, John. You both find someone you like and you practically abandon everyone else in your life!"

John got the upper hand again and slammed Sherlock back down, sparks popping behind his eyes as the detective hit his head on the linoleum floor. "Is this about Mary? How dare you accuse me of 'abandoning' you in favor of a woman I love and a family I wanted?! YOU abandoned ME, Sherlock. You left me to bury you and face my PTSD alone. It's no wonder I found someone else to put my trust in. You left me, and I fell in love."

Sherlock grit his teeth as head-butted John, knocking him off and onto his arse, allowing Sherlock to pin him once more. "What happened to 'nothing will change once I get married' or 'we'll still do stuff'? Huh? That lasted four months, John. Then Lily came along and I only existed when I was with your family. It's not my fault I clung to the attention of the only Watson that wanted to give me it! And it's also not my fault Lily is being raised by an adrenaline junkie and an ex-assassin, so she wants to hang around someone that's still doing dangerous things!"

The doorway to the stairwell banged open next to them and Lestrade stormed his way into the hallway. "That's enough!" He grabbed both the men by the collar of their shirts and hauled them to their feet like guilty school boys being busted by the principal.

Neither had even noticed that a small crowd had accumulated to watch the scuffle, and they were now dissipating and pretending they hadn't seen anything. Sherlock began to rub the back of his curls where a bruise was certainly forming from being body-slammed into the floor, and John's lip was bleeding a little from the head-butt. "I know you're both upset that Lily's been taken, but you need to hold it together. It's no one's fault but the kidnapper's, and the longer you two jack around and blame each other, the less of a chance we have at finding her. Now," He let go of their shirts and pushed them in the direction of the tapes. "Go find out where she is so we can end this."

* * *

_"Great job, Lily Anne!" Sherlock said, setting the young girl twirling around the living room of 221B._

_"I'm gonna be a ballerina someday!" She giggled, pirouetting gracefully... right into the Christmas tree. "Oops." She said in a small voice as ornaments rained down and splintered on the ground._

_"Don't worry. Your Dad made me put it up, anyway." Sherlock picked her up and moved her out of the way of the glass. "You know I don't like Christmas decorations."_

_"Dad says you're a sour puss."_

_"Your Dad talks pretty big for a little guy." Sherlock winked at his niece, knowing that she would eventually relay the barb to John. Lily smiled gleefully and asked once more if she could braid her Uncle's hair._

Lily awoke from her memory when a loud crash sounded across the room. The first thing she noticed was that her blindfold had been removed and she could see her surroundings in the dim lighting. She sat up in the red upholstered pew and looked around the church chapel. A crucified Jesus hung over the overtuned pulpit not too far in front of her, and stain glass windows were letting in the last lights of a sunset. She was still silenced and within her bindings, but at least she knew where she was.

A shadow to her right stirred and Lily turned to see a man gagged and bound as well in the pew across from her. He had dark brown hair and a weather worn face, and the look he gave her was tragic and apologetic. "I warned you, Lester." The voice Lily recognized as Jim came out of the shadows under the crucifix.

Jim, a shorter man with a shaved head and tan, leathery skin walked down the aisle to stand in front of his brother. "Now we're doing it my way. Your vote no longer counts." He pulled out a knife and cut Lester's bindings. The knife was quickly replaced with a gun pressed to his captive's temple as Jim pulled the gag out of Lester's mouth. "Untie the girl." He instructed, handing his brother the knife.

Lester moved slowly across the aisle to where Lily was sitting and kneeled down to make short work of the rope around her feet. His hands were cold and shaking when he steadied her arm and cut the bindings around her wrists. "I'm sorry, Miss." He said as reached up to remove the gag. Before he could take it off, a shot rang out and Lester's skull exploded out the right side of his head. The cloth around her mouth muffled Lily's scream as her ex-captor dropped heavily into her lap and blood began to pool on her thighs.

A small click echoed loudly in the silence after the murder. Lily turned her head slightly to see the gun now pointed at her. Jim motioned for her to get up and move towards the door. "We're going on a walk."


	11. Chapter 11

"Did you find them at all?" Sherlock asked, pushing Anderson roughly out of the way of the computer screen.

Anderson huffed a bit, but avoided a snarky remark. "We need your brother's government ID to gain access to that much CCTV footage."

Sherlock pulled the ID out of his wallet and typed in the identification code. When clearance was granted, Sherlock set about locating the cross training facility on the cameras. He found the appropriate camera, then rewound the tape until he saw two men exit the building, a girl slung over one of their shoulders. "There are two kidnappers. Of course there are two." Sherlock muttered.

He jumped from camera to camera, following the sleek black car as it made its way across town. "When was this?" John asked, peering over the detective's shoulder.

"About three hours ago. Lestrade was right; we were too far behind them to keep playing this game." Sherlock continued to press keys on the keyboard and the crime stoppers watched the cameras jump and switch to follow the car. The kidnappers stopped the car outside of First Trinity Church on the outskirts of London, pulling Lily from the car and going inside.

Sherlock fast forwarded the camera until only one man and Lily exited the church, a gun held expertly to her head. "Where are they going?" John asked, slamming his shoulder hard into Anderson, who was leaning too much on the doctor to get a better look.

"They're going up towards the hills and woods in back of the church. There's no CCTV up there." Sherlock said, pointing at where the camera stopped showing them their crime scene.

"Where'd the other one go?" Anderson asked.

"Maybe he's dead, maybe he's waiting." John offered.

Sherlock fast-forwarded again, hoping to see them at least return to the car. Soon, the lone kidnapper wandered back into view of the camera, sat down on the front stoop of the church, and looked expectantly at the road. "He's waiting for us." Sherlock said, pushing away from the desk and taking off in a whirl of black coat.

Sherlock banged open the door to the stairs, flying down them three at a time, before bursting out into the street and hailing a taxi. "Shouldn't we get Lestrade?" John asked when he'd finally caught up to his friend.

"The kidnapper wants me, not Scotland Yard. We stand a better chance of finding her alone." A taxi came screeching to a halt in front of the duo, and John barely had time to close the door before they were racing across town.

The taxi ride was almost painful with tension, both men still amped up over their fight at the police station. Finally, John broke the silence. "I miss going on cases with you."

Sherlock was tapping away on his phone, not even glancing up at John as he spoke. "I never said you couldn't come. You just stopped."

"Because my children were born and my attention was otherwise occupied." John was trying to make it right, but Sherlock was being as difficult as usual. "Can I come with you on the next one?"

Sherlock looked up now and nodded. "Only if you promise to tell the whole story to Lily afterwards. She wants you to tell her about your exciting, pre-family life. That's part of the reason she's always hanging around me. I tell her about our adventures." Sherlock went back to his phone. "I told you: she's just like you, John."

"Well, that's—"

"Stop the car!" Sherlock cried, then braced himself against the back of the chair in front of him. Throwing a handful of money at the driver, he said, "I'm getting out here and moving in from this side. John, have the driver take you further down the road and close in from that side." He pulled his gun out of his pocket. "Let's end this. Now."

* * *

Lily had been herded part way up the hill behind the church, before the butt of Jim's gun came down on the back of her head. When she woke up, it was pitch black and her head was pounding. The deafening quiet told her that she was blissfully alone, and she took a moment to get her bearings. Her Uncle's voice in her head told her to use her senses to gather what she knew.

She knew her arms and legs were still untied and the gag had been taken out, and the surface she was laying on was hard and flat. Lily moved her arms slightly out to the side, and felt the wooden walls right next to her. Upon dragging her hands up the sides of the walls, she quickly found that the wooden ceiling was directly above her. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes and took a shaky breath.

Lily ran her hands along the ceiling above her face, and found a small hole in the woodwork. She tested her new hypothesis and poked her finger through. Sure enough, when she retracted her hand, a small stream of dirt fell onto her cheek.

Lily knew exactly where she was. And she tried not to panic.


	12. Chapter 12

Lily had no idea how long she had been in her current prison, but it felt like a lifetime. She took another deep breath and steadied herself once more. "Uncle Sherlock will find me." She repeated to herself for the fifth time. "He will find out where I am, and he and Dad will get me out." She closed her eyes and whispered, "Please come soon, Uncle Sherlock."

Her eyes flew open as a heavy 'thunk' sounded on the wooden roof above her.

* * *

Sherlock moved quietly across the church grounds, flitting like a shadow from tree to tree and hunting with all the grace of a predator. He was nearing the front of the church now, and could almost see the stoop. The night air was still and frozen, as if mother nature herself refused to break the tension of the moment. Sherlock absorbed the silence and rigidity in the air and it seeped through to his bones and caused goosebumps to break out down his arms as he approached the edge of the small woods. He was going to end this.

"Looking for me?" A voice said from directly above the detective.

Sherlock swung the gun upward, but was too late as the kidnapper fell from the tree and knocked the weapon out of his hands. Sherlock stumbled a bit and tried to find his center of balance, but not before the man grabbed him roughly by the front of the shirt and hurled him out into the clearing near the church.

The detective landed hard on his back, knocking the wind from his lungs and kicking up a small cloud of dust. Sherlock tried to move as quickly as possible, but his attacker was already on his feet and moving faster. "Hello Detective Holmes." He strode forward, stepping on Sherlock's arm so the man couldn't get up. "My name's Jim Henson. I doubt we've met. But you took something from me, and it's time we settled this. Like men." And he punched Sherlock square in the jaw.

Sherlock ignored the pain in his mouth as he swung his free arm around to take out Jim's legs, but the kidnapper was too quick and danced out of the way. Using the freedom he'd just gained, he sprung to his feet and just narrowly dodged another punch. He moved to deliver a blow to his opponent's right shoulder, but was blocked and attacked in the same manner. They continued their dance of blows and blocks halfway across the church yard, until Sherlock got an idea.

As Jim swung to hit him once more in the face, Sherlock blocked the move and kicked him hard in the knee. The detective watched as Jim crumpled, using the advantage to get his hands around the kidnapper's throat. "Where's the girl?" He asked, lifting Jim to his feet by the neck.

"Or what?"

"Don't test me. I'll squeeze you until your eyes pop out." Sherlock growled through his teeth. "Where is she?" He tightened his grip slightly and lifted so that Jim was slightly off the ground.

"I knew I'd find something you care about. Secrets don't stay buried very long."

"I'm warn—" Sherlock was cut off by a sharp kick to his left hip, wavering his grip and stance enough for Jim to free himself and gain the upper hand again. With one more blow to the shoulder, Sherlock was pinned on his back again.

Jim hovered over him, a long pocket knife gleaming in the moonlight. "Fun's over, Detective Holmes." The killer leaned back to drive the blade home, but was stopped completely as a gun shot rang out.

Jim's brain's exploded out the back of his head as the bullet entered his eye and exited his skull, and the man dropped to the dust like a boulder. "Sherlock!" John came sprinting up, his gun still smoking slightly. "Are you OK?"

"No!" Sherlock jumped to his feet and shrugged off John's attempts to examine him. "He didn't tell me where he hid her!" He landed a large kick to the ribs of the lifeless body. "She's around here somewhere!" He pressed his fingers to his temples and growled in frustration.

"He probably told you, remember? He's a riddler. Think, Sherlock!" John spun around, trying to pull clues out of thin air.

"Just shut up, John!" Sherlock cried, the pressure and sentiment interfering with his trains of thought. Thousands of images rushed behind his eyelids, words, signs, subtle movements, but nothing helped. He shook his head and started again, playing back dialog and scenes, anything to provide an insight to where his goddaughter was. "AUGH!" He landed another kick to the kidnapper. "Think!" Then he saw it. "John." He said slowly. "The kidnapper has dirt all over his body."

Both of them shot up the hill to the back of the church, running as fast as they could manage and clearing the small graveyard gate in a few seconds. John ran to one side, frantically checking every spot for signs of fresh burial. "Where did he put her?" He cried aloud.

Sherlock moved just as quickly on the opposite side of the boneyard, leaping over headstones and looking for upturned dirt. "John!" Sherlock dropped to his knees in the grass next to a large mound of dirt. "I think I found her! John!"

Sherlock began digging, pulling large clumps of dirt from the mound and moving it out of the way. John began to run to where Sherlock was, stopping only once to call Lestrade as he grabbed two shovels out of a wheelbarrow in the middle of two plots. "Here, use this." John tossed a shovel to his friend and the two men moved dirt as fast as their muscles allowed.

The grave was a shallow one, and it only took ten minutes of digging before Sherlock's shovel hit something hollow and wooden. The detective fell to his knees once more and began pushing dirt off the top of a long pine box, as John dug a small notch in the dirt to reach the lock.

"Move, Sherlock." John said as he brought the point of his shovel down hard on the coffin's lock, snapping it in one try.

Both men flung the lid open and John reached down and gathered his teenage daughter up into his arms. "Oh my god, Dad!" She yelled, burying her face into John's neck and finally allowing herself to cry.

Sherlock let the lid of the wooden box fall shut and he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Suddenly, Lily flew into his chest, sobbing into his ruined shirt. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Sherlock! I love you!"

Sherlock hugged her tight, pressing a kiss onto her forehead and wetting her blond hair with his tears. "Shh, it's OK. I love you, too, Lily Anne." Blue and red police lights began to dance off their surroundings and Lily curled up even further into her Uncle's lap. Sherlock gently stroked her hair and whispered, "You're safe now."

* * *

**Author's note: **Watch for the epilogue later this week! It will be the last thing posted for this story.


	13. Epilogue

Lily was only 30 years-old when she inherited the Baker Street property. It was a bittersweet day, moving her boxes into the place where her Uncle had lived her whole life. She had always dreamed of moving into the flat one day, but she had always imagined it being much further in the future. She'd wanted to inherit it so far into her future, that there was nothing left to do but retire into the old flat. She had never wanted it this soon.

"Lils?" Jack appeared in the doorway, the last of their boxes in his arms. "You OK?"

She nodded surreally. John set the small suitcase he'd carried up the stairs down next to the coffee table. "You sure you don't want us to stick around and help clear out some of Sherlock's old junk?"

"No, Dad." She insisted again. "And it's not junk. You should know that."

"Right. Sorry." John was still dealing with the situation to the best of his abilities, after all, it takes more than a month to move on.

"Besides. Jack has his stag night in a few hours, and you said you were going with him. I don't want you guys to miss it. Mum and I are going to the florist tomorrow morning to make sure the bouquets are the exact right color, so I'll see both of you for lunch after." Lily stood on her tip-toes and kissed her extremely tall fiancé. "I want to get the place in order before the wedding next week, so we can just come right home to it after the honeymoon."

John went to give her a hug goodbye, and whispered in her ear. "You sure you're OK?"

She nodded into his shoulder. "Thanks for caring."

John kissed her on the cheek and went down the familiar stairs to hail a cab. "See you tomorrow, love." Jake kissed her again and followed John down the stairs, leaving Lily amongst the wreckage of her Uncle's last few months in the flat.

The first thing she did was go into Sherlock's old bedroom and just get that room done and over with. The morphine machine he'd stolen from the hospital and his pain pills were strewn out over the bedside table, and the small suitcase he'd taken to St. Bart's a month ago now lay in the center of the large bed where John had dropped it off after signing all the official papers. Lily sat on the bed and pulled her knees in close to her chest, waiting for the memories to come.

* * *

"Dr Lily Watson?" An intern stuck her head shyly into the research lab.

"Yes?" Lily didn't look up from the experiment she was conducting, her own interns scribbling away as they watched the reaction.

"He's asking for you. We think it may be time."

Lily immediately left her work in the hands of her interns, telling them to wrap up and call it a day. Upstairs in the small private room, machines beeped and charts told the worst had come, and Lily couldn't bring herself to go in just yet.

"You'll regret it if you don't say goodbye." A quiet voice said from behind her. Jillian, her future sister-in-law and a nurse at St. Bart's, put her arms around Lily in a quick, supportive hug, then nudged her towards the slightly open door.

Lily pushed open the door slowly, but what she saw made her want to run again. Sherlock smiled the best he could when he saw his goddaughter. His skin was paper-thin and ashen, his hair completely gone, and the grey eyes had dimmed significantly over the last few years. The biological researcher tried not to cry.

She had tried so hard in the last 3 years, but she couldn't cure his cancer.

Lily sat down gingerly in the chair next to his bed and picked his hand up. "How do you feel, Uncle Sherlock?"

"Same as ever. Wish I had my morphine machine." He mumbled.

"You have one right there." She said in disbelief. "You don't need two."

"No, I need mine. I could control that one. Jake's sister won't let me touch this one." He frowned.

Lily laughed a little. "It's because you stole one from here the last time you were in for chemo and now they're making sure you get the correct amount, not just however much you feel like that day."

"Do you remember the time your Dad lectured both of us at the same time, using those same words, because we ate all his chocolate biscuits on his birthday?" Sherlock laughed, his eyes lighting up once more. "I asked him why it was a big deal, and he responded with 'Because you're supposed to eat one or two a day, not just however many you feel like'."

"In his defense, you stole them and we ate the whole plate before dinner. Plus, they were supposed to be for him."

"He didn't need the calories." They giggled a little and Lily reached over and turned the knob up on the morphine, just a bit.

They sat together and talked for an hour, telling stories from their times together in her youth, making jokes and it was almost like old times again. Until Sherlock went into a coughing fit, pulling away his handkerchief bloody.

"I'm sorry I couldn't fix this." Lily admitted quietly. "I spent all that time researching and experimenting and nothing came from it. I still can't stop this." She was starting to cry.

"Lily Anne, you did so well. You made progress and the scientific community looks to you to lead them in cancer research." He reached up and swiped a tear from her cheek. "You couldn't stop this, but you will save so many other people."

"I still wish I could do something now."

"You can promise me something." Sherlock sat up a little farther in bed.

"What?"

"You won't change anything I planned for your wedding."

Lily laughed through her tears. "I won't! God, you and Mom are terrible Bridezillas."

"Your mother is terrible at planning weddings, what are you talking about?"

"She was the one that helped me pick out my dress."

"And who was the one that paid for the tailor, made suggestions, and made it even better?" Sherlock nodded when Lily giggled out 'you did'. "Damn right I did. And I swear to god, if you change anything, even the flower colors, I'll haunt your wedding. I'll push over a vase or something."

They both were laughing now. "I promise I won't change a single thing. It'll be exactly how we pictured it." She took his hand again. "I just wish you could be there."

"Me too." He kissed the back of her hand. "One good thing came out of this situation, though."

"What's that?"

"My hair's gone, so I don't have to worry about you braiding it for the funeral." He laughed weakly and Lily let out a huff of laugh in between her tears.

They sat in companionable quiet for the next hour, until a flatline broke the silence.

* * *

Now, Lily moved around 221B Baker Street, pulling boxes across the wooden floors to their proper rooms, and moving boxes of Sherlock's things upstairs into her father's old room. She paused, however, when she came to an old box her mother had dropped off at her previous flat months ago. The cardboard box was dusty, and 'Lily's Childhood Things' written in sloppy sharpie marker across the side.

Lily knelt down and opened the box. Inside were several of her favorite old toys, a scrapbook from her trip to Disney World with her parents and Sherlock, and several other things that were precious to her as a child. A manilla folder at the bottom of the box caught her eye, and she dug it out from under the Perplexes maze that Scotty had given her once he'd given up and started resenting the Christmas gift.

On the front of the folder was 'Happy Birthday Lily Anne' written in Sherlock's scrawling, fading handwriting. She opened the folder, and inside was the song he had composed for her 6th birthday. ""Lily's Song'." She read aloud, skimping the old pages of sheet music. She had forgotten about the song all these years. It had been too complicated for her to play, so she and her Uncle had set it aside, promising to return to it once she was older and her skills had improved. Now it was 24 year later, and she had still never heard the song.

Getting an idea, she quickly slid into her coat and snatched up her violin before going out to hail a cab.

* * *

The headstone that read 'Sherlock Holmes' was expensive marble and expertly carved, a combined financial effort of the entire family. Lily tried her hardest not to focus on the dates underneath the name as she set up her music stand and laid the sheets of paper along the edge, being silently thankful for the lack of wind.

She pulled the violin up and tucked it under her chin, finally beginning to play her song. It was complicated, yes, but at it's core, the melody was happy and filled with vibrancy. She listened and played in awe of the amount of himself that her Uncle Sherlock had poured into the piece, and she couldn't help but smile as the piece turned silly and back to serious and then into quick and cheerful; he had made the song exactly like her 6 year-old self.

Lily laughed and smiled, feeling very at peace as she played her Uncle to sleep.

* * *

Two years later, Dr Lily Anne Watson won the Noble Prize for Medicine for her advanced and almost guaranteed cancer treatments and medications. Almost curing the disease entirely, she did exactly as her Uncle had predicted and saved so many more lives.

With the prize money, she opened up the Sherlock Holmes University of Music and Science, where she is currently continuing her research and teaching violin lessons. Every year, at her student's final concert, she opens the evening with one of her Uncle Sherlock's original compositions.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for being patient on this update. School's been so crazy lately, and I really wanted to do this epilogue justice and the ending it deserved. Thanks for reading and enjoying, and for all the great feedback. This story started as a silly one-shot, but due to requests, I decided to make it longer and it grew and became a large part of myself as well. Also, I feel the song 'Willow' by Jasmine Thompson goes very well with this chapter, as well as the whole fic, so please go listen to it :)


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